


It Is You And Me Tonight

by AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27922252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell/pseuds/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell
Summary: Ever since Colorado, something has changed between them. And while she's kept putting it off as a part of her imagination for the past few weeks, there's no denying the obvious right now.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	It Is You And Me Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.
> 
> A BIG special thank you goes to the amazingly talented purpleplasticpurse for beta reading!

**.**

**It Is You And Me Tonight**

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**.**

* * *

.

" _Looks like it's just you and me." - Cook, Skins UK_

.

* * *

.

Staring out of her living room window and into the drifting snow, Emily thinks she's never felt more taunted in all her life.

If Hotch had just taken the time to _fucking_ listen to her, none of this would have happened.

Now, because of a _damn_ snowstorm, she's stuck in DC instead of gambling and flirting in Vegas. And since she hadn't planned on spending the holidays at home, all she has left are some instant meals and an almost empty bottle of wine.

_Fucking perfect._

Emily can't help but feel like the whole universe is laughing at her. Maybe it is.

Making her way back to the couch, she settles down into the cushions, reaching for her wine glass on the coffee table with one hand and the TV remote with the other.

Half an hour later, the bottle of wine is empty, the loneliness starts creeping up on her, and she's just tipsy enough to feel like crying over _fucking_ nothing.

It's why she leaves the _damn_ city everytime a holiday or her birthday comes around. And if it hadn't been for Hotch acting like an _asshole,_ it would have worked out just fine. After all her initial flight had been two days ago, 48 hours _before_ that snowstorm decided to hit out of _fucking_ nowhere.

She keeps watching yet another rerun of _Home Alone,_ contemplating the thought of taking a sleeping pill and just going to bed. Maybe that would be for the best after all.

Shutting off her TV, Emily makes her way back to the window to take another look outside. It's still snowing, but it's not as bad as it's been before. The snowplow must have gone through as well, the usual busy traffic almost back to normal.

Catching a glance at herself in the reflection of the window pane, Emily wishes she'd just refused when Hotch told her to change her plans.

That little black dress she bought only for Vegas seemed like a total waste of money now. Where else could she wear a skimpy dress like _that_? Maybe she should wear it at the office just for the hell of it. That would surely get her into serious trouble. But wasn't that the whole point of going to Vegas? It sure was for her. She'd wanted to have a few days to get away from being herself, not spend the f _ucking_ holidays at home being equally _depressed_ and _frustrated._ If she'd wanted to do that she could have just stopped by at her mother's place.

Taking a deep breath, Emily settles down at the windowsill, not sure what to do with herself. Staying alone in her apartment for the rest of the night won't do her any good, that much she already knows.

.

"I thought you said you'd be in Vegas for the holidays?" Rhydian asks the moment she sits down at the counter of her favorite bar.

"That's what I planned," Emily admits, motioning for him to just get her a drink as she slips out of her coat.

"Let me guess," Rhydian states, all knowing and sympathetic, while he reaches for a glass and the right bottle on the shelf behind him. "Your flight got canceled because of the snowstorm?"

Emily nods, unable to hide her annoyance. "My initial one was booked two days ago to avoid something like this. But there was a last minute thing my supervisor insisted on working. Now I'm _fucking_ stuck in the city thanks to _him._ "

"Maybe you'll catch a flight tomorrow, the weather forecast could be wrong about this going on for the next few days."

Emily shakes her head, knocking back her drink. "By then I would only have one day left. There would be no point flying to Vegas anymore."

"I'm sorry," Rhydian says, moving a second drink in her direction before heading to another customer at the other end of the bar.

Me too, Emily thinks, her hand closing around the glass when a deep, familiar voice from somewhere behind makes her jump.

"Your boss must be a real _dick_."

Turning around, her eyes meet Hotch's from where he's standing right behind her, a glass of auburn liquid in his hand.

"Well, it's definitely his fault I'm stuck here instead of having fun in Vegas," she remarks nonchalantly, just drunk enough not to care about the outcome of her flippant retort.

He raises his brows questiongly, and there's something flashing in his eyes that might be amusement.

"I should apologize then," he notes, his face all stoic, his dark eyes searching hers.

"You could start by buying me a drink."

Hotch offers her a long look, before he motions for Rhydian to get her another one. "What are you doing here?" he asks, knocking back his own drink without as much as a blink.

"It's my favorite bar."

"Is it," he muses, and Emily faintly wonders how many drinks he's already had. He's still wearing his suit, looking all business like, and yet something's clearly off.

"What about you? It's Christmas Eve. I thought you had plans."

"I did," Hotch admits thoughtfully, briefly looking down into his empty glass before meeting her eyes again. "Haley decided to spend the holidays with her family. I won't see Jack until after New Years."

There's a heavy sadness in his eyes that makes it hard to hold his gaze. His odd behavior the last couple of days suddenly makes sense.

"I'm sorry," Emily says, wishing she'd known sooner.

Hotch stays quiet, his gaze still locked with hers and she thinks he's never looked at her the way he does now.

_Maybe he really is drunk after all._

She turns away first, her hand closed around her glass before she empties it in one go.

"Do you want another one?" Hotch asks and Emily chuckles, her eyes meeting his once again.

"Might be cheaper to order the whole bottle," she points out bluntly.

"Sounds good to me," he agrees with a slight shrug, pointing at an empty table in the back. "Do you want to join me?"

.

They're halfway through the bottle when Emily begins to wonder what the _fuck_ they're doing.

She's drunk enough to slur her words, he does too, and the way he has _his_ legs pressed against _hers_ under the table seems anything but accidental.

Her cheeks are flushed, and even though she wants to blame it on the alcohol, she knows it has nothing to do with that.

His fingers brush against hers when they reach for the bottle at the same time, her dark eyes finding his, and it's just then that Emily finally understands where this is going.

Ever since Colorado, something has changed between them. And while she's kept putting it off as a part of her imagination for the past few weeks, there's no denying the obvious right now.

The way he's looking at her tells it all, and if not tonight, then maybe tomorrow. It's only a matter of time until one of them gives in, crossing the line even when they shouldn't.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we're closing."

Turning her head, Emily blinks in surprise at Rhydian's sudden appearance next to their table. She blinks again, noticing that they're indeed the only patrons left.

"Can you call me a cab?" she asks, trying to sound a little less drunk. Rhydian chuckles.

"I can try, _darling_ , but the streets are impassable. You're going to have to either walk or wait until the snow plow goes through."

Emily frowns. _It can't be that bad again. Right?_

It's only when they step outside into the cold December night, that she realizes how wrong she was. There's nothing but tons of snow, _everything_ buried under a thick blanket of ice and yet it's still coming down. White puffy flakes tumble from an overcast night sky at rapid speed.

" _Fuck_ ," Emily mutters before she can stop herself while Hotch only stifles a laugh from where he's standing on the sidewalk right next to her.

"My apartment is just around the corner," he says, sounding all calm and much more coherent than she does. "You can stay at my place."

Emily blinks, slightly startled, and also a little bit confused. Did she know that his apartment was that close to her favorite bar?

"Can you walk in those?" Hotch wonders, and it takes her a while to understand what he's talking about.

Looking down at her heels and back at the snow covered sidewalk, Emily sighs. "Probably not."

Hotch chuckles, and Emily reaches for his arm to steady herself before she does the most logical thing that comes to her drunken mind.

"What do you think you're doing?" He wants to know, a growing frown on his face, while she slips out of her heels. "You can't walk barefoot in this weather."

Emily offers him a smirk. "Watch me," she states with a wink, already taking off with her heels in her hands.

"It's freezing," Hotch states matter-of-factly, already following, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

"Is it?" Emily laughs, turning back to look at him, wondering how he manages to walk a straight line while she's failing at the task completely. He offers her a long look, a flicker of amusement flashing in his dark eyes. There's undoubtedly a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're just too drunk to notice," he points out calmly.

"I'm not drunk. And I'm not barefoot either, I'm wearing nylons."

He raises an eyebrow at her. Emily rolls her eyes in return.

"I don't remember the last time there was snow on Christmas," she says, looking up at the dark night sky in faint amazement. "Do you?"

"No," Hotch admits, finally catching up to her.

"It's beautiful," Emily finds herself saying, and she feels him watching her closely when he answers, "It really is."

.

The first thing Emily notices when she steps into his apartment is the wrapped up Christmas tree next to the door. Hotch does too, and she catches the sadness flashing over his face before he has the time to turn his head away.

"You should have told us," she says before she can think better of it.

"Why?" Hotch asks, slightly turning around to face her. There's curiosity in his eyes. "There was no point forcing you to change your plans for the holidays. You have every right to be angry with me, Emily. I just wanted to prolong the inevitable."

"You still should have told me," she says, more determined this time, wishing he had.

He regards her with another long look and this time it's Emily who turns her head away first, feeling quite uncomfortable. The walk in the cold already sobered her up more than she thought it would.

"I think I should go," she says, taking a sudden step backwards. "It's not that far after all."

Hotch frowns. "Don't be ridiculous. In this weather it'll take you at least an hour."

He's right of course. But now that she's _not so drunk_ anymore, she's suddenly very aware of how inappropriate all of this is. She really shouldn't be here, least of all in the middle of the night.

Emily takes another step backwards, and not seeing where she's going she trips over something on the floor, losing her balance. She tries to reach for the dresser to steady herself, but fails. It's Hotch who catches her with ease.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his arms around her waist while he's helping her back to her feet. Emily feels her cheeks flush.

"I must have missed one of Jack's toy cars," Hotch tells her, all apologetic and she brushes a strand of her hair out of her face out of habit.

"Don't worry about it," she assures him, her eyes meeting his, and it's only then that she realizes how close he is. Her hand rests on his chest, where his is on the small of her back, her body pressed flush against his. For one moment Emily wonders what would happen if-

They move both at the same time only a second later, meeting each other halfway when their lips crash into a fierce kiss.

He pulls her close, and then just a little closer and she gives in even when she knows that she shouldn't. They stagger through his apartment, her hands working his belt, his already finding a way under her dress.

She's losing her patience, and he does too, because they're still in his hallway when he lifts her up easily, before spinning her around to press her back up against the nearest wall.

She's not sure who has the upper hand. Maybe it's him, maybe it's her. Maybe it's neither one of them. But maybe, just for tonight, that's alright.

.

When Emily wakes up in the morning she knows something's _different_ even before she fully opens her eyes.

The bed she's lying in isn't hers, and she's not just naked, but she's definitely not alone either. She's curled up against someone else's chest, a familiar arm casually draped over her waist.

Opening her eyes and slowly turning her head on the pillow, Emily stills, her eyes going wide. The person sleeping right next to her is not just _anyone,_ but Hotch.

It takes her about ten seconds before last night's memory comes rushing back to her in _vivid_ clarity.

_Fuck._

Emily holds her breath, silently counting to twenty, before slipping carefully out from under his arm and out of his bed. She hasn't said a prayer in forever, but now she's praying, hoping he won't wake up before she's gone.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Searching his dimly lit bedroom for her panties and her bra, she gets dressed in a hurry, quietly scolding herself. She really knows how to _fuck_ things up, doesn't she?

How was she supposed to work with him ever again? There's no way out of this now. She would have to resign. Maybe she could call Clyde. If she asked _nicely_ maybe he would offer her a job.

She finds the rest of her clothing in the hallway, pulling her dress back over her head before slipping into her heels. Absently ranking her fingers through her hair, Emily hopes she looks at least halfway decent. Picking up her coat from where it's tossed over the back of the couch she's almost at the front door when she slips and stumbles. Losing her balance, Emily still tries to reach for the dresser even when she already knows it's futile. She never hits the floor though. Just like last night Hotch shows up out of nowhere, catching her with ease.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his dark eyes searching hers from where she's lying in his arms. He helps her back to her feet, while Emily wonders why she didn't hear him leave his bedroom. He's hastily put on his suit pants and a T-shirt, and she isn't sure why he even came after her.

There's a look on Hotch's face she can't quite decipher, before he finally bends down to pick up Jack's toy.

"I probably should have done that last night," he murmurs reluctantly, placing the tiny car on the dresser next to the door. "It's still snowing," he adds matter-of-factly but completely out of context.

Emily blinks. "I know," she says, even though she doesn't take a look out the window.

_But it can't be as bad as last night. Right?_

"You really want to walk all the way home?" he wonders, sounding faintly disappointed.

Leaving his question unanswered, Emily turns towards the door. She stills instantly when she catches sight of the wrapped up tree against the wall.

_It's Christmas morning._

_I already forgot._

"When was the last time you decorated a Christmas tree?"

"I don't know," Emily admits, trying to remember. Back in middle school, she thinks.

"Want to give it a try?" There's a softness in Hotch's voice that forces her to turn around again. And in that small moment, between here and now, when her dark eyes meet his from across the room, Emily finds herself wondering if he's still talking about decorating a Christmas tree together.

"Stay," he adds. "Please."

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End file.
